


Soldier, Poet, King

by CherriesAndRaindrops



Series: We Were Born to Make History [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Multi, Songfic, Unrequited Love, autistic!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherriesAndRaindrops/pseuds/CherriesAndRaindrops
Summary: The compassionate leader of Manhattan, the perky leader of the Bronx, and the intelligent leader of Brooklyn.
Relationships: Crutchie/Jack Kelly, Smalls/Sniper (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: We Were Born to Make History [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550809
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. He Will Tear Your City Down

**Author's Note:**

> Song is Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos.  
> So this wasn’t gonna be part of the WWBTMH series originally, but since I’m still coming up with ideas for the other musicals I’m gonna include, I decided to squeeze in it.

There _will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword._

_He will tear your city down, o le, o lei, o lord._

Jack wasn’t the most popular newsie leader in New York.

In fact, he was most likely the most notorious.

He didn’t bat an eye if his newsies went to other boroughs, he was a frequent visitor to the Refuge, and he was an impulse decision maker, to name a few reasons.

But none of the Manhattan newsies minded. They all loved their compassionate, kind, and goofy leader.

But Jack cared.

He cared more than anyone.

He didn’t feel normal. No, he _knew_ he wasn’t normal. He couldn’t talk slow to save his life, he almost never made eye-contact, and he constantly found himself fidgeting by rocking back and forth or flapping his hands.

None of his friends did that, so why did he?

But Crutchie didn’t care. He loved his Jackie nonetheless.

Crutchie felt like something was different about his partner, but he brushed it off. He was still always gonna be the same boy that took him in after finding him alone in an alleyway four years ago.

He was always gonna be willing to hold Jack in his arms on the days when the stress of being a newsie leader cracked him, and he locked himself in the bunkroom, or to listen to him ramble on and on about Santa Fe on the rooftop late at night and become just as intrigued about it as he was, or to press kisses on his nose because he knew his partner would giggle every single time.

And Jack loved him just the same.

He just needed to figure out how to show it.

—

“This was a bad idea.”

”What was, Jackie?” Crutchie asked, nuzzling into the taller boy.

”Da strike. I don’t think I’se ready tomorrow. As far as I know, none of da othah boroughs are on our side!”

“Y’know, you’s been actin’ different since you and Davey came back from Brooklyn. Did somethin’ ‘appen?”

Jack let out a sigh. “Conlon said he wanted us ta see if we could hold our on.”

”We can do dat, right?”

”Dat’s what I’se worried ‘bout. This could be my only chance to prove dat I’se a good leadah ya da othah boroughs.”

The sadness and anxiousness in Jack’s eyes was just about as clear as day, so Crutchie was gonna try his best to wipe it away, just like always.

” ‘Ey,” The shorter boy cupped his partner’s cheek in his hand. “We’s gonna do it togethah, alright? Everythin’s gonna be fine.” 

Jack just nodded, and Crutchie pecked his nose.

And he giggled, just like always.

Tomorrow, everything would go downhill, and Jack would be alone on his beloved penthouse, curled up in a ball wailing his eyes out.

But for now, the two were happy.


	2. She Will Slay You With Her Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smalls truly did have a way with words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do you all keep sleeping on Smalls? She’s hyucking adorable!

_There will come a poet, who’s weapon is her word._

_She will slay you with her tongue, o le, o lei, o lord_

Smalls truly did have a way with words.

If it wasn’t for that, she probably wouldn’t have had persuaded the former leader of the Bronx, Georgie, to let her take over the job as leader about five months back.

No one thought she deserved such large role. After all, she was only 14! No newsie that young could take on that role!

But Smalls’ full of surprises.

Although she was perky, and a bit too optimistic, she knew how to take care of her newsies...

With the assistance of Sniper.

Sniper was Smalls’ right-hand-woman, and essentially, her moral backbone. She knew that a girl as young as her was prone to make some bad decisions, so she decided to step in and help stop that.

Without her, half of the Bronx newsies would probably be in the Refuge.

Oh yeah, and Smalls was in love with her.

She didn’t no how it happened. She never fell in love with anyone! Not even anyone as special as Sniper!

But she was full of surprises.

—

“D’ya think we shoulda joined da strike?”

Sniper fiddled with her cigar. “Ya made da right choice by sayin’ no. Y’know how ‘Hatteners are.”

”But Jack’s my best friend...” Smalls whined, crossing her arms. When she came leader of the Bronx, Jack took her under her wing, showing her the ropes to a role like this, and she was more than happy to have a father figure in her life.

”I know, but dat don’t mean he’s perfect. He’s probably gonna end up in da Refuge again with all his newsies.”

The shorter girl sighed. “I guess you’s right.” She murmured, her heart still aching from having to betray her friend.

Sniper nodded, biting back the urge to grin in triumph. “Well, it’s gettin’ late. Ya should be hittin’ da hay, hon.”

...hon?

”O-okay.”

Smalls scampered upstairs to one of the bunk rooms, the moment replaying in her head like a broken record. But she was gonna handle it like how all the other leaders did; Maturely and calmly.

She pounced into the first bunk she saw, and squealed into the pillow.


	3. Smeared With Oil Like David’s Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if...Spot might seem like an angry douche, but he’s actually just kinda emotionless but still an utter sweetheart?  
> Haha, just kidding.  
> Unless...?

_There will come a ruler, whose brow is laid in thorn_

_Smeared with oil like David’s boy, o le, o lei, o lord_

Spot Colon was the true king of New York.

Some say he could knock you out with a single punch to the face, others that one wrong move and you were out of the Brooklyn Lodging House for good.

He wasn’t sure where everyone got those rumors from, but if he truly was respected by every single newsie in the city, then so be it.

He was just worried about being genuinely feared. What if there was some little kid living on the streets of Brooklyn with nowhere to go? They probably wouldn’t turn to the newsies if they heard about how intimidating and mean their leader was.

Believe it or not, the king of Brooklyn wasn’t even close to that description.

Well, at least he tried not to be. He wanted to be viewed as a tough, intelligent figure. So he was like a blank, emotionless slate. Sometimes, he came off as cold and calculated, willing to do anything to get what he wanted.

But if one of his newsies was ever feeling like the dirt underneath someone’s foot, he was more than willing to wrap them up in the warmest hug they would ever get.

—

Spot tossed and turned in his small, lonely bed. He had his own room, fit for a king.

...if being a king meant feeling miserable every single night.

As he tried to get a wink of sleep, his mind kept going back to Jack. The poor guy looked petrified when he tried to convince him to join his little strike just mere hours ago. Spot had always admired that wannabe cowboy. Although he could always tell that he was constantly feeling like a deer on headlights, he held it together, and that was true strength.

There was also another Manhattan newsie that Spot was a lot more fond of...

Racetrack Higgins was occasionally found sauntering the streets of Brooklyn like he owned the place. Of course, none of the Brooklyn Newsies liked this, and had Spot confront him.

But how could he be serious when a cute boy like Race started flirting his way out of the talk?

Spot felt his face heat up, recalling the day when Race took Spot’s chin in his hands and said, “Y’know, for da leadah of Brooklyn, you’s kinda cute, sweetheart.”

That was the day he fell head over heels for the younger boy.

He groaned, burying his toned face in his pillow.

Maybe ‘Hatteners weren’t so bad after all.

—

These three newsie leaders were all different.

Jack was compassionate and artsy, Smalls was perky and mischievous, and Spot was quiet and kind.

But that’s what made them unique leaders.

Kings and queens of New York, if you will.


	4. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spot stops by the Manhattan Lodging House shortly after Santa Fe.

“...are you okay?”

Jack looked up to see something rather unexpected.

There, leaning on the rooftop railing with concern dripping from his expression, was none other than the leader of Brooklyn himself.

“Well, what does it look like, huh?!” The (significantly) taller boy shouted as he stood up, wiping off his tears on his blue shirt. “We were CRUSHED!”

Spot nodded and started to approach the leader of Manhattan. “Jack, I’se sorry-“

“Too late for dat now, Conlon.”

It was at this moment that Spot knew...

He fucked up.

“You don’t git ta apologize.” Jack sneered, sauntering towards Spot in the most threatening manner he could pull off. “You and yer newsies just act like they own da place, livin’ in yer small little bubbles and thinkin’ yer da best of da best.”

“Jack-“

“NO!” Jack snapped, jabbing a finger in Spot’s chest. “BACK OFF! YOU’S DA REASON DAT CRUTCHIE GOT THROWN INTO DA REFUGE!”

He realized what he was doing, and stopped.

Out of all people, he had just told off _Spot fucking Conlon._

Jack backed away, the knot in his throat growing tighter and tighter by the second. He started doing one of those weird things almost none of his friends did by rapidly tapping his fingers against his arms as he walked off.

“Sorry.”

Just as he let his tears start flowing again, he felt a pair of arms wrap him in a tight hug from behind.

”It’s okay, Jack. I know ya didn’t mean it.

Jack could only whimper in response.

That led to more sobs pushing their way out his throat, and soon he was a shivering, weeping shell of a good-for-nothing leader.

” ‘Ey, it’s gonna be okay. We’s gonna find a way ta win this, okay?”

The taller boy couldn’t find the voice to protest, so he only nodded.

”You’s really brave, y’know?”

....brave.

How in the world was he brave?

If anything, Jack thought of himself as nothing but a coward now, scared to carry out his own fight.

”...no I a-ain’t” He sputtered, just pushing the words out of his throat.

”Yea, you are. Even aftah all da judgement from da other boroughs, yer still able ta do what ya think is right. D’ya know how brave dat is?” 

Hm.

Maybe he was brave and as strong as Spot said.

But that was just a maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it, folks!  
> Now, I shall retreat into my historical musical rabbit hole, writing crappy oneshots for the masses.  
> Toodles!


End file.
